My Job Description Includes What?
by roze13
Summary: A look at the day of one background individual on Diego Garcia. No longer a oneshot.
1. A 'Normal' Day

My Job Description Includes What?

Author's Note: So, this is an exploration in a 'what if' for me. How would an absolutely ordinary woman, with ordinary skills cope with the giant alien robot environment? The same way one copes with eccentric humans I would figure.

In addition, this is intended to be a one shot timelined sometime after Egypt. If readers demand, other chapters may be made available at a later date as there are ideas for them. I just don't know if there's enough interest in them. :)

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Nancy Anderson slapped the alarm clock off. It was five a.m. and time for yet another day. She took a deep breath, ignoring the tiny voice the back of her head that marveled out how she was still alive. She snorted and got up without any further preamble.

She went through her usual morning routine: shower, wash face, brush teeth, do hair, get dressed, do makeup. She took her time picking out her earrings, her one nod to any eccentricity. She did so adore large, dangly earrings.

Now ready for work, she slips into her sensible, broken in pumps, grabs her attache case and steps out of her apartment door. A brisk walk down the hall and out the outer door led her to the early pre-dawn morning on the Diego Garcia base used as NEST Headquarters. A short walk later and she let herself into a large hangar that was half converted into a series of catwalks with open offices on them.

Nancy deposited her case on her desk, grabbed the new stack of memos and trotted down to the section used as the human lounge. She started the coffee pot and check the stock of cereal and bagels. Pulling out a voice recorder she made a note to order more blueberry bagels. She continued sorting through the memos as she walked back up the stairs. With the memos finally sorted into priority order, she sat down at her desk and sorted her email as well.

By the time she'd answered the email, composed responses to the top priority memos and written a few memos of her own, including the grocery order, the hangar was showing signs of life as various clerks and soldiers filed in to take care of their daily duties. Major William Lennox soon wandered in and grunted a greeting of some variety to Nancy. Nancy smiled brightly and passed over a folder of paperwork. "Today's memos, reports and notes for the meeting later today, sir."

Lennox sighed at the folder, waved in farewell and tromped off to his own desk. Musing, again, that Nancy had to be the only morning person on the entire island. Nancy focused back on her computer. She fired off quick answers to the new emails that had trickled in. She then went back to sorting and summarizing the various reports that had come in.

"Good morning, Miss Anderson," rumbled a polite voice. Nancy looked up and over the catwalk railing to smile at Prowl. "Good morning. Punctual as always. Here's the latest numbers regarding finances. Also the latest batch of speeding tickets shipped in from the States. There's also a few item orders that I wish to defer to your judgement. I don't know what Sideswipe needs a 6 month supply of espresso beans for, and frankly, I don't want to." Prowl sighed and accepted the stack of reports from Nancy. "That is probably a wise choice, Miss Anderson. I suspect I will no longer wish to know once I find out." Nancy gave a commiserating smile to Prowl ask he turned to greet Optimus Prime and go about their business for the day.

Filing more reports, answering more emails, directing a few phone calls and one coffee break later, Nancy found herself in a staring match with a set of blue optics doing their best at the 'Kicked Puppy' look. She sighed and arched an eyebrow, "Bluestreak, why do you want my stapler?" Bluestreak's look wavered for a moment but reinstated itself quickly, his doorwings drooping just those few inches more. "I can't tell you, it's a surprise. I promise you'll get it back and it'll still work just the way it was designed to. Please please please? I won't let anybody else have it. Not even Optimus! But I really can't tell you because surprises are supposed to be secret. And if I told you, then it wouldn't be a secret anymore! And and…" Nancy cut him off with a quick wave of her hand. "Fine, you can borrow it. But I need it back before lunch, okay?" Bluestreak's instantaneous smile was worth it as he reached over and snagged the small object and disappeared with it.

Nancy didn't get much further with the next set of emails before she heard Sergeant Robert Epps cursing from the direction of the copy machine. She sighed, locked her computer and then went to rescue the poor man. She deftly pulled the paper he wanted copied from his fingers, placed it in the feed tray, pulled out the misfed paper, reset the machine and hit the copy button. She smiled at the mystified Epps before turning and intercepting another soldier from mauling the printer fax machine. She plugged it in and pointed him to the directions on the wall before leaving.

Sideswipe popped up next to the catwalk as she headed back towards her desk. "Hey, did you send out my order?" he asked. Nancy smiled secretively, "Oh you mean the espresso beans? I passed the paperwork on to Prowl. Ask him." She ignored the sudden outburst of Cybertronian clicks and whirls as Sideswipe darted away in alarm.

She sat back at her desk and noted the time. Was it lunch break already? She reached down and fished out a small tupperware container out of her attache case. Sitting back up, she noticed the sudden reappearance of her stapler. At least… she thought it was her stapler. It was now lacquered cobalt blue with silver metallic flecks glinting from under a shiny buffed acrylic coating. Her name was scrawled on the top in a fancy cursive, made from what appeared to be shined chrome. She belatedly looked around and saw no sign of Bluestreak, or any of the other autobots for that matter. She placed her lunch on the desk and picked up the stapler to examine it. She clicked it once and dumped the now compressed staple into her palm. She shrugged, placed it in its spot on the desk and grabbed her lunch. It still worked, it was just shiny now.

She skipped down to the lounge, waved at a few soldiers who were eating lunch before stopping in front of the coffee maker. She put the poor machine back to rights and wondered internally about how numerous, very intelligent, highly trained soldiers (who worked with the mechanically complicated autobots, no less) could screw up a coffee machine day in and day out. She sat down with a freshly brewed cup of coffee and her lunch and traded general gossip with a clerk from financing and one of the maintenance crew before returning to her desk for the afternoon.

Returning to her desk, Nancy sat down and smiled wanly at the newest stack of memo's that had accumulated during the meantime. She sorted and dealth with those while also doing the same with the most recent emails. She looked up from the paperwork in time to see Wheeljack approach. His headfins lit up merrily and he waved a small stack of papers in his hand, "Nancy, could you set these up for approval. They're acquisition requests for materials for my next project." Nancy nodded wordlessly and accepted the papers with one hand while reaching into a drawer with the other, meanwhile Wheeljack launched into one of his usual excited rants, "It's absolutely exciting! We're going to be working on this quantum field theory that…" He was interrupted by Nancy shoving an oversized Rubik's cube into his hand.

He blinked and then quickly set about solving the puzzle while Nancy went through and filled out the necessary forms and stapled them to Wheeljack's papers. "Here you go, Wheeljack. Everything looks to be in order. Once you have Prowl's signature I'll put the order out." Wheeljack having just finished solving the Rubik's cube looked up and blinked in surprise, "Wow that was fast. Thanks, Nancy!" He put the solved cube on her desk and took the papers off to find Prowl. Nancy shook her head, mixed up the cube and placed it back in the drawer.

Lennox stopped and dropped some memos on Nancy's desk and then asked her, "What's with the Rubik's cube anyway? You even do that to the human scientists when they come by." Nancy smirked, "I have no head for science and they always want me to stop and talk about it with them. The Rubik's cube is every scientists' perfect distraction. I get my paperwork done and they are thoroughly occupied while I do it. The last time I tried to politely bow out of a scientific discussion I got pouted at by Perceptor of all bots." Lennox laughed and nodded before heading towards the stairs. "Don't forget the meeting's in fifteen!" he called over his shoulder.

Nancy checked the time on her computer and then sighed. She grabbed a folder from the filing cabinet and darted over to the copy machine. She made enough copies of the papers, sorted, stapled and foldered the lot of them and then took them downstairs to the lounge where she grabbed a wheeled cart and placed them on top. She also filled a carafe with fresh coffee and grabbed enough mugs for everyone at the meeting. Throwing on the necessary items she wheeled the cart to a conference room that was set up for humans and cybertronians alike. She deftly dispersed the meeting notes and the coffee before sitting in a chair with a notepad and a pen in the corner.

Two hours and twenty five pages of notes later, Nancy cleaned off the conference table and returned the various implements to the kitchenette in the lounge. Once back at her desk, she began transcribing the meeting notes onto her computer. This was interrupted by the alarm klaxons going off. She sighed and locked down her computer before joining the small rush of civilians going to the underground bunker. She listened for the numerical codes being shouted that announced that a Decepticon had somehow breached the perimeter of the base. She sat on one of the benches and hugged herself while listening to the sound of gunfire and explosions up top.

The tiny voice from this morning pointed out with it's usual glee that she really shouldn't ignore the fact that her 'job' was anything but normal. Honestly, what secretary had to distract scientists with plastic puzzles and be concerned with why a corvette wanted espresso beans? She frowned and told the internal voice to shut up. Twenty minutes later, a soldier appeared in the door to the bunker and barked out the safe code to allow the civilians out.

Nancy returned to her desk, pleased to see that it and it's hangar had not seen battle. She shook her head at the back up of her work and resigned herself to a few extra hours. The rest of the day blurred by in paperwork, emails, large robots and coffee. Around ten o'clock, she stood from her desk and shut everything down. She went to the lounge and cleaned the coffee pot. On her way out, she shook Lennox awake from the spot he'd fallen asleep at on one of the tables. Lennox blinked up at her blearily, "It's twenty two hundred hours, sir. Go get some rest."

She waved and walked towards the hangar door. Three steps beyond the door, Lennox caught up with her and laid a hand on her shoulder, "Hey Nancy, I just wanted to say something. I don't know how you do all this without the same military training that the boys and I fall back on. Thanks for keeping us from drowning in minutiae." He squeezed her shoulder and then veered off for the military barracks situated on the other side of base. Nancy smiled softly then turned back towards what was now her home. She didn't know how she did it either. And really… who cared? A secretary's job was usually only noticed when it wasn't done right. And besides, somebody needed to protect those soldiers from the vicious copy machine.


	2. And We All Fall Down

My Job Description Includes What?

Author's Notes: Congratulations readers, it continues! And as requested (and already planned): how it all got started. Enjoy

Also, check the poll on my profile.

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Mission City, 2007

Shots rang out overhead. Explosions rocked the street. Buildings shuddered as various pieces of large urban shrapnel pelted them from all directions. And in the midst of it all, tiny fragile humans ran screaming in any direction they thought would lead them away from the sheer destructive power displayed by the giant mechs waging their war in the streets. Nancy Anderson was another in the screaming, terrified mass that shifted one way and the next seeking escape. And her morning had started so well too.

She had a job as a secretary slash personal assistant for an extremely popular interior designer in Mission City. She would get up in the morning. Dress cutely in her designer outfits that flattered her physique. She drive her cute little Porsche Boxster to the coffee shop for breakfast and then to the office to take care of business.

It had been a great day. Business was doing well. Her boss had sent her on a coffee run and she'd hopped into her beloved car and took off down the road. Only to be held up by a military blockade that was only moments later hit by a missile from an jet-fighter. And then everything fell to pieces.

And so she ran and screamed and cried. Until she'd tripped and twisted her ankle, going down on a sidewalk. She looked up in time to see a large vehicle being tossed through the air. She hunkered down as it sailed over her and into the storefront window behind her. The shattered glass from the window peppered across the exposed portions of her back and down her left leg.

By this time she was dizzy as well as panicked. She soon blacked out from the pain in her wounds. When she awoke, she was in a military hospital on a base some ways away from Mission City. The shrapnel was already removed and the wounds bandaged and stitched. Her twisted ankle was broken and casted. She would require not only physical therapy, but the nurse had informed her that she was being taken to a psychologist as well.

Some man in a military uniform arrived and informed her of her options. Accept a package that gave her a fair amount of money, covered health and recuperation costs and all she had to do was sign an non-disclosure agreement. The other option was to be admitted to a hospital where she would be cared for and kept quiet by government personnel. She took the first option.

* * *

The next six months were a blur of doctor's visits for her ankle and her post-traumatic stress disorder. She returned to Mission City to find her apartment building had thankfully been spared. The interior design office however, was nothing but a pile of rubble. Her boss had already been identified and buried. She then also got to talk to her new therapist about depression and survivor's guilt as she looked for a new job.

The payout from the government thankfully kept her in house and home until she found a position as a receptionist for a large multi-company office building. Her new boss had no concept for customer service or simple courtesy and she soon found herself spending each day scrabbling to keep not only the customers from being angry, but soothing the ruffled feathers of the various corporate executives that paid the pricey rent for their high-rise offices. She'd found her personal hell.

* * *

Another six months passed in a similar fashion. The post-traumatic stress was gone although she still had nightmares about once a week. The corporate executives got her boss fired and she found herself unwillingly promoted into management. She had always chosen secretarial work for the simple reason that she was just really good at it. Management however, the art of making subordinates want to do their jobs, was not something she was good at. She was rather horrible actually.

The depression lifted but was soon replaced by anxiety attacks as she worried about her job. Which she found was simply a deeper level of her personal hell. Her therapist was now talking about placing her on medication. For some reason this morphed her nightmares from giant robots chasing her to giant robots shoving dreadful tasting pills down her throat.

It was almost a year since her life had simply exploded and died. She slumped home from work, bone exhausted and dreading the next day's therapy appointment, only to find two men in military uniforms standing beside her apartment door. They talked lightly to each other, clearly sharing a funny story about a mutual friend. She, of course, was instantly wary.

She took a breath and put on her professional face before stepping around the corner and coming down the hall. "May I help you gentlemen?" she intoned politely.

The shorter of the two males, a caucasian with kind blue eyes, smiled brightly and said, "If you're Nancy Anderson, then yes. Yes you can."

Nancy arched an eyebrow before unlocking her door and allowing the two men in. She dropped her purse and keys on the door side table and then walked into the kitchen. Calling out behind her, she asked, "Would either of you like something to drink? I have water, milk and orange juice. I can also make coffee or tea." She set about putting a kettle on the stove and arranging at least one cup of tea on her counter.

The caucasian male seeing that she was starting tea, nodded, "Tea sounds nice, thank you."

The taller, an african american with a mischievous smirk shrugged before saying, "I'll have water."

Nancy nodded and arranged everything on the kitchen table and gestured for them to sit while she finished waiting on the kettle. Once they were settled to their drinks and seats, she smiled professionally again and said, "So, what can I do for you?"

The two men looked at each other and then smiled kindly back at her. Taking the lead once again, the first man spoke, "Ms. Anderson, my name is Major William Lennox and my companion is Sergeant Robert Epps. We were members of the military outfit that was involved in the Mission City incident a year ago." As he said this, he pulled a folded piece of paper from a pocket and slid it across the table to her.

She left her professional smile fade to an unhappy frown before taking the paper and looking at it. On it was written a single phrase that had been arranged with her when she signed her NDA. It was simply to let her know that they had clearance and it was safe to speak with them. She sighed and returned the paper to Lennox. "I see. I haven't broken any of the rules without knowing have I?"

Lennox shook his head, "No, Ms. Anderson. We are here to ask a few questions at the moment."

Nancy blinked suspiciously at them before nodding to them to continue. Lennox smiled comfortingly and then began with a series of questions asking her to detail her job history, training and education.

Epps took over the next portion and asked her several open ended scenario questions that she recognized were designed to determine temperament. It went on like this as they took turns asking her different kinds of questions that she thought sounded like they belonged in a job interview.

After about half an hour, a cell phone rang in Lennox's coat pocket. He answered it with a simple, "Sir." He nodded to the muffled sound of the voice before responded, "Yes, sir." Holding out the phone to her he said, "One last question, Ms. Anderson."

Nancy worriedly took the phone and took a deep breath before putting it to her ear and speaking a calm, "Hello?" She noticed Epps give Lennox what appeared to be a meaningful look. She didn't have time to wonder about it long before a deep set, baritone voice, that demanded her attention despite it's gentle tone, asked her a single question.

"If you could change any one thing about the incident in Mission City, what would it be?"

Nancy blinked before exhaling softly. For some reason, she knew that her answer was beyond important to this voice. She relaxed slightly and leaned back in her chair. "If I could change any one thing… no one would have died," she said simply. She thought briefly of not only her former boss, but of the various friends she knew who died or had left the city because they could no longer stay.

The voice spoke again, this time with a lighter air, "Thank you, Ms. Anderson. If you would please, hand the phone back to Major Lennox."

She silently did so and then listened as Lennox spoke again with that respectful "Sir." The muffled voice spoke to him and then hung up. Lennox then nodded with a smile to Epps that was brighter than before. Epps responded with what appeared to be a relieved and excited smile of his own.

Lennox then turned back to Nancy and said, "Ms. Anderson, how would you like to work as a secretary for an organization that is the representation of the alliance between our planet's nations and a group of alien refugees who are trying to protect us from their enemies?"

Nancy blinked and sputtered in shock, causing both men to chuckle. They then, working in tandem, explained everything to her. Three hours and an order of chinese take-out later, she'd signed employment papers and was falling into bed exhausted.

* * *

Her therapist called the next morning before she left for work and canceled her appointment. She turned in her letter of immediate resignation and then returned to her apartment. A week later, she was standing on the tarmac of Diego Garcia as a few soldier's loaded the belongings she had chosen to keep into the apartment in the civilian housing building on base. She watched them silently and wondered briefly what she had gotten herself into.

She turned to the sound of heavy footsteps and craned her neck to look up at the towering form of the mech she'd been informed was Optimus Prime. Major Lennox trotted beside him and waved cheerily at Nancy. Lennox shook her hand briefly and then waved her attention up to Prime, "Nancy, I want to formally introduce you to Optimus Prime. Prime, this is our new secretary, Nancy Anderson."

Nancy murmured her hellos and then allowed a startled smile as she recognized Prime's voice from the phone. "Ms. Anderson, a pleasure. I cannot express how grateful I am that you accepted our job offer. I understand that you have many a reason to be unhappy with what my kind has done to you."

Nancy shook her head and smiled at him, "Firstly, if you wish to be formal with my name, use Miss. I have never been married and Ms. feels so awkward for me. Although I would prefer to be called Nancy if at all possible.

Secondly, if what I have learned about you and yours is true, then you would never have allowed any harm to come to our world had you any more say in the matter than what you did. We cannot control the actions of others, only ourselves."

Prime smiled and nodded at her, "I am going to enjoy having you here on Diego Garcia, I think. Welcome to N.E.S.T. and Diego Garcia, Nancy Anderson."


End file.
